


bleeding grounds

by florenc



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom, Technoblade - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anarchy, Battle, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Death blaming, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, Implied Romance, King - Freeform, Knight, Medieval, Monarch - Freeform, Revenge, Swordfighting, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenc/pseuds/florenc
Summary: Undefined love does not always persevere over the perils of war, the soil will always be soaked with unatoned blood.
Relationships: Technoblade/Reader, dreamwastaken/sister!reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	bleeding grounds

He had always been praised for his nimble feet, his astonishing agile movements. The way he could prance around a field with a dozen armed men and have none of them so much as unsheathe their sword. He was savvy and skilled, one of the most talented knights of the realm, and he knew it so damn well.

She, on the contrary, was blunt and stubborn. She knew how to stand her ground, and God, she would not fucking move. She had always let her foes prance their way to her, allowing them to perceive her as a damsel, as a woman too afraid to move her feet. Nothing was less true, she was bold and _fiercely_ untrained, but for some reason, she always managed to create a pile of seeping corpses to mark off her perimeter.

He had trouble understanding her tactics, he believed them to be foolish and terribly perilous. Not only to her and her enemies, but to himself as well. She was stuck, nailed down, to one singular spot. Naturally, so were his eyes. As he swung around his sword, pushing arrows through hearts left and right, his eyes were never on his own target. 

Constantly his mind would be preoccupied with her and her moronic antics, he would dance around her boundaries, trying his very best to keep any rival as far from the edge of her bounds as he could. 

She did not see it that way. She saw an arrogant man in heavy armor slaying her corpses right in front of her face, she saw another one of those stupid smug knights believing her not to be worthy of her own battles. And God, she despised him for it. Pushing her to the sidelines of her own wars, pushing his own inferiority complex onto her.

So, naturally, she gave in eventually. She gave in and stepped into the line of fire, ducking under sweeping blades and leaping over soaring arrows; ones that would have never reached her would she have stayed put. 

His eyebrows furrowed deeper at every shot that got a little too close to her for his liking, abandoning his own opponent, to instead focus solely on hers. Without a second thought, he curved underneath another overdrawn saber, immediately lifting himself back to his feet, his back pressed to hers as a crowd formed around them. A threatening circle of sharpened blades enclosing on them as they desperately tried fighting them off, one by one. 

"I told you to stay put." He hissed through gritted teeth, his sword loudly clanking against his towering opponent. 

"You're not my dad, Techno, _duck_." She ordered in response, immediately pulling his body down with hers as another arrow raced past their heads. He murmured a soft 'thank you' before grunting loudly as someone swung their axe into his side, thankfully protected by his excessively heavy chest plate. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," A heavy pant, "You?"

"Fantastic." Another broad sweep as she slung her sword into some guy's neck, immediately taking the opportunity to exit their deathly little arena, roaming further into the emptying battlefield. She let her eyes wander the lands, seeing several of her friends still fighting off either undead or almost-dead. 

He kept in her vicinity, fighting outrageously hastily, trying to free himself from his foes. He followed her traces, killing off as many men as he could while keeping her close. "Stop trying to get yourself killed." Annoyance laced his voice as she pulled into a jog towards her King, George, who was fighting a mere zombified child. He let his head fall over his shoulder to follow her disappearing figure, groaning in utmost agitation as another soldier tried his luck with him.

"Stop trying to protect me." She yelled loudly, however, not in a joking matter, unfortunately. He knew she hated his absolute guts, she always trailed around his compagnons instead. She wanted nothing to do with him, while he wanted everything to do with her. Obviously, he was too arrogant to ever admit this to her, so he stayed quiet. Silently sweating _daily_ to just keep her safe. Techno was not a man destined for love, he was not meant to care for another person as deeply as for himself. However, anytime his eyes laid upon hers, a meek voice in the back of his head would assure him, 

" _If you can fight your own enemies this easy, sure you could do hers as well._ "

Slowly but surely, as the sun started setting, the clanking of swords become more and more.. intermittent. Gradually, the silence of the night started taking over as enemy blood seeped into the ground. However, as his kill numbers started to quiet down, the voices in the back of his mind started growing louder. Louder. Louder. Telling him to keep going, to leave no man alive.

But she was no man, she was the one being in this entire realm not even the ghosts in his mind would dare to speak ill of. The one creature even his insanity wouldn't as much as _attempt_ to threaten. His heavy boots carried him to the rest of their meek group, their feeble effort of their twenty-something-men-army. "You're bleeding."

"Not my blood," She spat back at him, utter venom laced through her spaces. "Mind your business."

However, before he could retaliate, Dream spoke up, "If you want to see her tits, you can just ask, Techno."

"And I'd say no," She giggled at her brother's insinuation, and he, in all honesty, had to count to ten in order not to let the voices win. Murder him. Slit his throat. 

"Let's go home." George piped up, scrubbing a filthy rag over the blade of his sword. He sheathed his sword with an ear-piercing ring, "They have prepared rooms at the castle, we pull out again at dawn."

The voices echoed again, entirely preparing him for new sacrifices as soon as the first light hit the grounds. Murder everyone. Keep her safe.

-

The emptied hallways of the castle sounded even more deserted with the echoes of his padded feet pacing through them every few minutes. He roamed the corridors in a fruitless attempt to quiet the voices, to quiet his worrying mind. She had slipped from his eye the second the group had set foot on safe lands, as soon as she carried her slightly limping body through the threshold of the enormous empire. And though he had never been a fan of the kingdom as a whole, it was an ease to his mind, knowing she was safely guarded by hundreds of men and towering walls.

He passed her room for the umpteenth time of the evening, his steps subconsciously slowing as his ears perked at the sound of a whimper. A tiny, soft one, but his animalistic ears had picked it up nonetheless. It was almost muffled like she was trying her utter best not to let out a singular peep. 

Her door was cracked open, not more than an inch, but he could not help himself but peek inside. His eyes roamed over the left side of her room, a fauteuil and a dresser, a desk and a mirror and her. She stood in front of the tall mirror, staring at her reflection in complete focus. She was shedding her shirt ever so slowly, which immediately prompted him to avert his gaze and pull back from the door. 

However, another hiss sounded. Not necessarily a hiss, more of a sharp breath, loud. His hand slowly found the door handle, slowly pushing the door open a little further, just enough so that she could see his figure standing in the doorway. 

Her shirt was pulled up until right below her bra, her delicate fingers tracing a gaping wound on her side; entirely smudged with blood that had, in fact, been hers. Instantly, his mind started playing tricks on him again, whispering malicious words into his ears. You should've known. She's going to die. The door creaked faintly as he pushed himself to stand a little deeper into the room, her eyes on his as she lowered her shirt. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, Techno, go to bed." She barked back immediately, desperately trying to cover the pain that was roaming her tone. He let his hand fall from the handle as she turned to face him entirely, still from the other side of the room. She stood still, awaiting his response, "What did they do to you?"

"It's my own fault." She admitted, embarrassment clear in the way she stood silently, fumbling her fingers. She couldn't help but let out a mocking chuckle, though, "You can tell me 'I told you so'."

"There's no use in telling you that _now_ ," He let his lips curl up for but a split second, before remembering the gaping gash in her skin. 

She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks as he made her way towards her. "Can I?"

"Go ahead," His fingers held the hem of her shirt, gently pulling it up her side to reveal the wound. It was large, but not too deep. He crouched down to his knees, his eyes burning a path on her bruised skin. He let his finger carefully trace the side of the gash, trying to assess whether or not stitches would be necessary. Her skin rose at the contact, slight goosebumps emerging from his feeble touch. She blushed even harder as a shiver ran up her spine, completely oblivious that his body was doing the exact same thing. 

She looked down at him through the mirror, her reflection staring down at his face. She let her eyes trace his features, his soft pink skin and white scars, his sharpened teeth, and the blood-stained hair that laid ruffled on his head. It had grown significantly longer in the several days they had spent on the field, the days she had grown to slowly but surely appreciate his, secretly, caring nature. Obviously, though, she did not realize his caring nature only extended to her, that his watchful gaze really only ever allowed itself to cherish _her_ form. "I don't think you should come with us tomorrow."

"Unfortunately, that's not up to you," A soft sigh escaped her lips, her fingers trembling in the slightest where they held up her shirt. He returned a skeptical breath, shooting his eyes to meet hers in their reflection as he spoke, "I'm serious."

She pulled her shirt down over her hips with an annoyed huff, slightly louder as she attempted to hide the underlying hiss. He noticed, of course, she knew he did. He pulled his hands from her body, instantly missing the feeling of her warm skin under his. "Who is it up to then?"

"Anyone but you, really." He rose to his feet, shaking his head in the faintest as his gaze met his feet. Softly clearing his throat, while she added, "Don't tell Dream."

"I will tell Dream." He assured her, to her irritation, "You're hurt."

They stood side-to-side, the front of his arm brushing against her shoulder, as they stared at their reflection. They shared a breath before she broke the silence, "Fine, tell him, I don't care."

"Now, please leave." A spiritless order at best, but an order nonetheless. 

-

"George, if she dies tomorrow, her blood will be on your hands." Disbelief covered his entire face, his tone as monotone and harsh as ever, trying so very hard to mask any remaining emotions he had over her. 

"She won't, she said she's fine, right?" He replied with annoyance hinting in his tone, "If she wants to fight, she can fight."

He averted his gaze to meet Dream's, surely he would agree with him. Was he not his sister's keeper? 

"She's tougher than she lets on, Techno." The blonde spoke mumbling, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the dimmed fireplace. George was sat on the side of his bed, his elbows leaning on his knees. He met his eyes, a slow nod as if to say 'told you so'.

"You cannot be serious?" His voice roughened as the concern started inevitably seeping through. "Dream, she _will_ die tomorrow."

The masked man shoved himself from the rough stones of the hearth, immediately stalking towards him. Alarmingly close to his face, chests almost touching, his voice dangerously low, "Then that will be on _her_."

George also rose to his feet minutely, watching the situation in front of him devolve in a threatening pace, "If she wants to fight, she will fight."

-

And so she did, fight. His words ringing through her head with every step she took out of her normally safe line. She hovered around her own body, careful not to disturb her surroundings. She hissed at any movement she made, anytime she was forced to lift her sword from beside her, an acute flash of searing-white pain overtook her every sense. 

And so, she did die.

Ultimately, she would pass out from her seeping wound, fall right into enemy hands. She would fall over and pierce herself on their unsheathed sword. She never had a chance.

She fell to the ground, not with an agonizing shout, but more so a ceasing sigh. She fell to her own ground, the trampled floor of where she had fought the entirety of the, nearly defeated, battle. The blood-soaked dirt she had not allowed herself to leave, constantly replaying his words in her mind, 'Stay put', 'I told you to stay put', 'stay put'.

Agonizing screams did come from the zone of combat, nonetheless, even if they had not been hers. Shouts of terror and anguish as her body fell limp to the earth. 

The blood that soaked the fields that day were paid with a price, paid with a price no man had ever paid before.

-

He had never been the same, not since that day. No longer was the image of her an image that would shield him from his own psychotic phantoms, no longer would he yield from the idea of death.

The blood that soaked the earth that day was no atonement of any sorts, the blood that soaked the earth that day had been in utter and complete vain. It had not been just hers that seeped through the roots of evil underneath the soil, it would end with her brother's as well, but not her brother's alone.

The King would die and the empire, and any that would follow it, would inevitably fall to his hands.

-

Blood for the blood god.


End file.
